


Cassie's Drabbles

by CrashDevil (cjdevlin19)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 11:36:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16831837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjdevlin19/pseuds/CrashDevil
Summary: A bunch of drabbles I wrote for tumblr that I'm putting here because tumblr is being... difficult.





	1. The Sun

Sam ran at dawn. Not every day, of course, because some days he was still awake from the night before when the sun peeked over the horizon. Sometimes he was too drunk to get out of bed. Sometimes he ran at night, when the streets of Lebanon were quiet and still and devoid of waking life. But he preferred to run at dawn.

Sam learned long ago, as a young man at Stanford, that there was something magical about dawn. There’s something cleansing about watching a world full of darkness disappear in the light of the sun.

Sam ran at dawn, not for the exercise or the waking effect on his system. Sam ran at dawn for the sun. Sam ran at dawn for the cleanse, the hope that one day the rays of light which banished the darkness every morning might banish the darkness in him.

Fifteen years and counting. Fifteen years of mounting darkness, bad decisions, terrible mistakes with horrid consequences. Thirteen years of not being able to explain to his brother why he wakes before the sun to go running. Six years trying to cleanse the pain of Hell. Five years trying to cleanse away Amelia. Three years trying to cleanse the things he did to find Dean when he was a demon. Just a year trying to rid himself of the weakness and fear that made him let the Men of Letters into their lives. 

Maybe, one day, it would work. Maybe, one day, the sun would cleanse him. Until then, Sam ran at dawn.


	2. Sleeping Through

For [@impala-dreamer](https://tmblr.co/mFrBoRBdfsQa6xO8uHcKXsQ)‘s Tell Me A Funny Story Drabble Challenge 

Author’s note: This sucks. Fair warning… I should stick to angst and smut. 

Word Count: 500 exactly, according to GoogleDocs

Warnings: Language, terrible mistreatment of baked goods, angry words disparaging Sam (but I don’t mean any of it, y/n is just stressed)

* * *

It was supposed to be easy. It’s a saying, right? “Easy as pie”. Even the cookbook made it seem easy. Make dough, roll dough, put it in pie-tin, weigh it down, bake it, add fruit, bake again. Voila! **  
**

Pie isn’t easy. There’s absolutely nothing easy about pie and when you’re trying to learn to make pie in secret for your boyfriend while he’s sleeping off a binge-drinking sesh which followed a terrible hunt makes it all the harder. And when your boyfriend’s brother stumbles his big-ass body into a shelf in the storeroom of items that you still hadn’t finished inventorying because you decided to treat your boyfriend to a homemade pie and he breaks an urn that lets out an poltergeist who tears through the Bunker destroying everything in its path? Well, that makes learning to make a pie a bit harder.

“Fix the urn!” You yelled.

“Fix the- That’s not how this works, y/n!” Sam swung at a chair thrown by the poltergeist.

“Well, there’s nothing here to burn except my damn pie, Sam. Nothing to salt, either. The urn was working before, Gigantor, so fix the fuckin’ urn!”

“It’s a million pieces!”

“Whose fault is that?!” You shrieked as books started to rain down on you. “And where the fuck is Dean? How can he sleep through this?”

“I tripped!”

“You’ve had those big-ass feet for years, Sam, you should be used to them by now!”

“My feet are not-”

“Lie to me but don’t lie to yourself, Bozo.”

“Why are you berating Sam?” Castiel asked, walking into the library.

“Oh, good, Cas is here. Fix the urn. Angel-magic it.” Cas gave the ‘confused angel’ look as another book flew at you. “Sam, show him the thing so he can fix it.” You screeched as you threw yourself at the hallway, trying to get back to the kitchen. “No, no, no, no, no!” You moaned, rushing for the oven, which was pouring thick grey smoke.

You pulled the door open, coughing as the smoke billowed into your face, and pulled the black puck out as a spatula hit you in the head. “Fuck!” You looked at the pie in disdain and grabbed the spatula out of the air as you heard a coughing behind you. Your emotions were stuck between depressed and angry, making you a bit numb as Dean walked up.

“What happened? Why are the utensils flying?”

“Poltergeist. Cas is fixing it.”

Dean walked up and looked over your shoulder at the shoulda-been pie. “Were you… baking?”

“Was. But I had to run off to fight a poltergeist… which you _slept through_.” You tipped over into angry as you turned to him.

“Aw, baby. It’s the thought that counts, right?” He leaned in to press his lips to yours and you pulled away.

“ **If you kiss me right now I swear I’ll punch you in the balls.** ”

Dean laughed. “You can always try again, y/n.”

“Not in a million years, Rip Van Winkle.”


	3. Party In The Back

**Author’s Note:** This is a Crack! drabble prequel to a scene alluded to in **[Wildest Dreams](https://tmblr.co/ZMreqh2bmpDXp) **

**Summary** : y/n is 20 years old (claiming 22) drunk and hanging out with Ash after hours at the Roadhouse when Ash suggests something she’s never been drunk enough to try before.

**Pairing(s)** : Ash x Reader

**Word Count** : 522

**Story Warnings** : Smut, **18+** **HERE BE SEX, DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!,** anal sex 

* * *

“No, I’m tellin’ you, babe. I’ve read the Kamasutra… in the original Sanskrit, okay? And I’ve done some experiments on my own. It is a completely unique kinda orgasm.” Ash looked up at you from his spot with his head in your lap.

“Dude, it’s made to be an exit, not an entrance.” You were drunk. Ash, genius with a mullet who lived in the Roadhouse, bought you beers and bourbons all night and your head was swimming even as you tried to maintain your bravado of a female hunter a couple years older than you actually are.

“But it feels amazing. I promise.” He reached up and ran his hand down the side of your face. 

“This why you been buying me drinks all night, Ash? To get in my ass?”

“People been doin’ it for thousands of years, y/n. Thousands of years. You gonna tell me that generations and generations before us, they’re all wrong?”

“But, why can’t we just fuck like normal people, dude? I concede, okay? I’m totally okay with givin’ it up tonight, but why do you have to ask for _that_?”

“ _Normal?!_ That is a dirty word, y/n!”

You sighed and shook your head. “Fine. I will try your… sodomy.” You pushed his head off of your lap and it hit the green felt of the pool table. “But if I don’t like it… you clean your dick and put it where it belongs.”

Ash rolled off the table and punched the air. “Fuck, yeah! I’ll be right back. Gotta grab the KY.” He threw up a ‘rock-on’ sign as he fled to the back room.

* * *

Your fingernails dug into the felt top of the pool table, Ash’s cock buried in your ass to the hilt. “Wow, holy shit, your ass is tight as fuck!”

“Well, I’ve never had anything other than shit in it, Ash.”

“You ain’t hurt, though, right?” He asked, pulling back slightly and rocking his hips forward. 

You moaned, your head hanging. “No. Not hurt.”

“Ya like it?” He asked, teasing tone to his voice.

“Mullet… just fuck me.”

He reached around your body to put pressure on your clit as he started shallow thrusts. You were only a few minutes in when a light over the bar flipped on behind you. “ASH!! YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HAVING SEX IN MY BAR!” Ellen Harvelle’s voice screeched. “Do you know how many health code violations that is? We’re gonna have to bleach everything! Get off’a my pool table! NOW!”

“Ellen, where else am I supposed to take a lady?” Ash asked, slipping out and pulling your skirt back down.

“She got a car, don’t she?” Ellen stomped forward, looking you up and down as Ash zipped his pants. “And you’d call this a ‘lady’?”

“ _I_ wouldn’t.” You responded, swaying a bit on your boots. “Sorry to be a problem Mrs. Harvelle. I’ma go sleep it off in the bed of my truck. And _you_.” You pointed at Ash.

“Yeah?”

“A for effort, but I’m never doing that again.” You threw up a ‘rock-on’ and walked out of the roadhouse.


	4. Quiet

Prompt provided by [@peggingpadalecki](https://tmblr.co/mM2N7V85Xc1B91qI15ujVlg)

**Summary** : y/n’s father doesn’t want her to get in bed with hunters, so she’s gotta be quiet when she meets Sam Winchester.

**Pairing(s)** : Sam x Reader

**Word Count** : 400

**Story Warnings** : Smut, **18+** **HERE BE SEX, DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!,**

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your dad never liked to bring you on hunts when he was gonna be working with other hunters. He had no problem with you being in the life, being exposed to the violence and death, but other hunters were the line for him. “They’re loud.” He’d said, your whole life. “They’re rude and crude and handsy. Don’t need a damn hunter around my little girl.”

What he meant was “I don’t want a professional liar to talk you into his bed”. He was trying to protect you, you understood and even appreciated that most days, but there was no keeping you protected from Sam Winchester. As soon as Sam and Dean walked into the same crime scene you and you dad were investigating, you were drawn to the younger brother. Even as Dad sent you back to the motel, your eyes were on Sam.

You were pleasantly surprised when Sam showed up at your motel room door with a bottle of whiskey. He called it a peace offering when he handed it to your dad, who immediately twisted the cap and started downing it. Sam gave a wink to you before slipping away. You were sure it was just an angle at getting in the old man’s good graces. But when he passed out an hour later, a soft knock came to the door and you let Sam in.

He didn’t need to talk his way into your bed, he didn’t have to say a word. In fact, the shushing noises were the only sounds he made as he wasted no time getting nude and between your legs. You tried to keep quiet, but it didn’t work. Heavy breathing and little moans pulled from your throat as he thrust into you. Sam gave a pointed look at your unconscious father as warning, but it just made you whimper.

Sam’s large right hand covered your mouth as he started to thrust into you harder, deeper. You dug your nails into his forearm and lifted your hips to meet every thrust, the fear of your father waking up and seeing Sam Winchester balls deep in your pussy fueling you to get there faster. He pulled back, ripping his hand away from your mouth and pumping it furiously up and down his length until ropes of cum shot out over your stomach. He smiled, pulled his jeans back on, winked and slipped out of the room without a word.


	5. Lose You

prompt provided by [@letsby](https://tmblr.co/mNyc84TaeXXm8KMC5hme3uQ). It was ‘Thank God you’re alive sex’ with Cas.

**Summary** : y/n was not expecting such a strong reaction to her not being dead.

**Pairing(s)** : Castiel x Reader

**Word Count** : 460

**Story Warnings** : smut, **18+, HERE BE SEX, DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!!,** fingering, unprotected sex

You weren’t exactly sure how you’d gotten here. It damn sure wasn’t on your mind when you trudged into the bunker, half dead. Sam and Dean had both heaved heavy sighs of relief because the men had all been certain you were dead when Rowena _abi_ ’d you off that bridge into the raging river below. They’d searched for your body but given up after a couple days. The Winchesters wrapped you in a hug and Dean ran to get you food and Gatorade while Sam raided the medicine cabinet for painkillers. Cas just stared, not saying a word. **  
**

“You okay, Cas? I mean, I know it’s usually you or the guys coming back from seeming death, but I didn’t even really-”

He didn’t let you finish, covering your lips with his and pulling you hard against him. Even weak and hurt, you didn’t hesitate to return the kiss, pressing your tongue against the seraph’s and moaning. The speed with which your panties soaked through was a testament to the attraction you’d been harboring for Castiel. You never would have imagined he felt anything for you. He pushed you onto the closest table and pulled your pants down your legs.

“Cas!” Your body was flushed with arousal and embarrassment, but you didn’t try to stop him as he slid his middle finger into you and started to pump it in and out of you.

Intense blue eyes focused on your face, on every twitch of your body and hitch of your breath. “I thought I had lost you.” You whimpered as he added another finger and started to twist them. You watched his free hand pull open his slacks and drop them and his boxers to his feet, your mouth dropping open in a surprised ‘O’ to see his hard cock. He pulled his hand away and slid your body until your ass was right at the edge of table. He lined himself up and pushed in quickly.

“Oh, my god!”

“I can’t lose you.” He dropped his face to the crook of your neck and started to thrust, hard and erratic.

“Cas!”

“Holy-” Dean’s voice cut through your haze of pleasure.

“Go away!” Cas demanded, not stopping or even slowing.

“Is that- she was pretty much dead when-” Sam started.

“He’s healing her the fun way. Let’s go.” Dean said.

“Never scare me like that again.” Cas grunted in your ear as the Winchesters’ footsteps retreated.

“Oh-okay.” You couldn’t respond with anything else as your eyes rolled back into your head and you grasped at the angel’s shoulders.

“Promise me.” Cas’ hips slammed forward.

“Ah! I promise, Cas! Never gonna leave you.”

“Good.” He almost growled. “Now you’re going to scream for me.”


	6. Bite Me

**Summary** : Drinking with Dean leads to him reminding you of a kink you haven’t indulged in in years

**Pairing(s)** : Dean x Reader

**Word Count** : 412

**Story Warnings** : Biting!Kink, drinking

Slightly NSFW Gif and Drabble under the cut

* * *

It was a joke. After a few too many whiskeys, after a particularly harsh hunt, Dean had made a comment about your shitty singing and you’d teasingly thrown out ‘Bite me, Winchester’. So, he’d drunkenly grabbed your arm and bit into the flesh of your forearm. You were too drunk and too shocked to keep in the wanton moan. Your cheeks flushed with heat of embarrassment that didn’t even close to match the heat that flooded your core. You tried to yank your arm back, but Dean didn’t allow it, wrapping one hand around your wrist and moving to grasp your elbow with his other. “That was a sexy moan.” He accused in a low voice.

“No. That was pain. You _bit_ me, Dean.”

“Yes, I did. And you moaned. That was not a pain moan, sweetheart. I’ve heard the noises you make when you’re in pain. That sounded like… when you think a motel has thick walls and you pull out the Battery-operated Boyfriend you keep in your duffel.” Your mouth hung open in shock. He listened to you?! “You like being bitten, y/n?”

Your mouth closed, then opened and closed again. Dean smirked at your fish-out-of-water expression and leaned down, biting into your arm right over the same spot again. You tried to keep the moan in this time, but Dean just bit down harder. “Oh, _fuh-uck_.” You squeezed your thighs together and jerked away from him.

He chuckled as he straightened. “I didn’t realize you were so fuckin’ kinky, y/n.”

You looked down at the bite mark on your arm. It was pulsing with pain, but it just made your pussy throb with need. You covered the mark with your hand and rubbed your thumb across it. “Not really something I advertise, Winchester. Fuck, I’d forgotten about it, myself.”

“Yeah, guess your B.o.B. can’t cater to all your needs, huh?” He chuckled, standing and walking to the cooler to grab another beer. Instead of sitting on the bed next to you, though, he leaned over your back, flicking your hair over one shoulder and exposing the back of your neck to him. “Let me help you, sweetheart.”

His arm came around you, hand groping at your breast as he scraped his teeth across the nape of your neck. You shuddered and whined as his teeth dug into your skin. “Please.”

“Tell me what you want, y/n.”

You gave a small scoff. “Bite me, Winchester.”


	7. Go Without

**Summary** : Dean gets a little worked up watching you change out of your FBI outfit.

**Pairing(s)** : Dean x Reader

**Word Count** : 267

**Story Warnings** : Smut, **18+** **HERE BE SEX, DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!,**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He hadn’t even given you the chance to get completely undressed. He walked in on you changing from your FBI getup and he pushed you to the bed. His clothes came off quickly, his hands groping at you between pulling layers of his own Fed suit off. “Sorry, baby. You just looked so fuckin’ good, bent over takin’ off your heels.” He whispered, running his hands up your abs to cup your breasts.

“Wish I’d known it was so easy to get to you, Winchester. I wouldn’t have invested so much into lingerie and makeup if I knew I could just bend over.” You were panting as he moved his left hand down and ran his thumb across your clit.

“Keep the makeup, fuck the lingerie. That eyeliner you wear is hot as fuck but the lace shit? Go without it. Easier access when you’re commando.” He wrapped his fingers around the base of his cock and rubbed the head against your clit a few times before sinking into you.

“Oh, so this all about making things easier on _you_?” You shuddered as he started to thrust. “Trying to get off fast?”

“How often do I get to make you scream, y/n? How often is Sammy gone an’ it’s just, _hn_ , us?” He grunted in your ear. “I don’t wanna go fast, but unless you want my brother walkin’ in on us…”

“Fast is better,” you agreed, running your hand down your body to rub at your clit as he started to hammer into you. “Fuck, Dean. I’d rather go without panties than go without this.”


	8. Come Inside

**Summary** : John Winchester saved you from a vampire, so you invited him home with you.

**Pairing(s)** : John x Reader

**Word Count** : 303

**Story Warnings** : Smut, **18+** **HERE BE SEX, DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!,**

~~~~~~~~~~

The sofa was an antique, passed down from your mother whose father handcrafted the frame and whose mother upholstered it. The family had taken great care of it, with weekly cleanings using special soap and conditioning the leather. It had been in the family for fifty years and was almost as old as the man currently settled between your legs, licking into your cunt like a man starved.

John Winchester had saved your life. He swung a machete like a damn baseball player and took the head clean off of the vampire that was trying to turn you. John Winchester had pulled you out of the building, set you on his tailgate and went over everything that happened and what he did for a living. You thanked him, and when you wrapped your arms around him in a thankful hug, he tensed which just got worse when you pressed your lips to his cheek and called him a hero. He hesitated when you invited him to your apartment for a beer, but before the bottles had left a condensation ring on the counter, he had your dress off and your panties pulled to the side, tongue working at you as his stubble left pleasurable burns along your sensitive skin.

John Winchester was a hero, but he fucked like a villain. You were coming down from your third orgasm, the second one brought on by his magnificent cock, when you realized two things: that you were on your grandparents’ sofa and that John’s magnificent cock was not wrapped in latex. And a third realization followed quickly as John asked you, “Where you want it, Baby Girl?”

“Just don’t mess up the sofa, John. It’s an heirloom.”

“Well, I’m just gonna have to cum inside you, then.” He grunted, smirking as he fucked into you harder.


End file.
